


No Country for Old Men

by asuralucier



Series: Wick Anonymous [1]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Pre-Canon, Suits, Voyeurism, Watches, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: “It’s not even in the same neighborhood.” Marcus snorts into his drink. “You’d let me watch?”“You like watching,” Winston says. “A privileged man should share his riches, whatever you might think of me.”(Select minutes from Wick Anonymous meetings. Or, the one where Winston and Marcus both want John Wick and are slightly creepy about it.)





	No Country for Old Men

“You look well,” Marcus says to the Manager of the New York Continental as he sits down next to Winston at the bar. He doesn’t mean this cruelly, even though it will almost certainly be taken that way. The man can’t take a compliment. Thinks everything is an assault to his ego, a side effect of slumming it in upper management. 

“What do I usually look like?” Winston returns; he never disappoints. 

“Like something’s stuck up your ass.” Marcus says this, a bit loudly. Loud enough for the bartender pouring his soda and bitters to stutter and a spray of soda goes all over the counter-top and misses Marcus's sleeve by an inch. 

“Oh shit,” the guy says. “Sorry, I just um.” 

“Clean that up and pour him another,” Winston orders and the poor kid scurries off backwards with his eyes trained on his shoes. Marcus didn’t even know that was a thing, but now he does. Once they are alone again, Winston turns his gaze to Marcus, who has had enough practice he doesn’t flinch from the attention. Winston probably still remembers when he used to flinch, but that was a long time ago. “What are you doing later, Marcus?” 

Marcus says, “How much later?” 

Winston glances at his watch. “The car leaves in a little under an hour. I’ve agreed to assist Jonathan in selecting an appropriate wardrobe. He’s got a meeting in Naples, you know how fussy they are.” 

“As in, you’ve been asked, or you’ve volunteered?” A new drink is slid in front of Marcus on a dark napkin and he does the bartender a solid (he thinks) by not looking over. 

“It’s the same thing.” 

“It’s not even in the same neighborhood.” Marcus snorts into his drink. “You’d let me watch?” 

“You like watching,” Winston says. “A privileged man should share his riches, whatever you might think of me.” 

“What’s he doing here?” John asks, looking at Marcus. The question is pointed, but not unfriendly, like his expression. 

“Just here to watch,” Marcus volunteers mildly when Winston doesn’t say anything. “Hope that’s all right, John.” 

John peers at him, with a gaze so black that some of it seeps into Marcus’s blood like tar. “It’s a little weird, but I don’t mind.” 

“Good.” 

“You might want to take off your watch, Mr. Wick.” The tailor says, all business. He’s seen all kinds of shit; this probably isn’t even weird.

John slips off the watch and looks between them. Finally, he sticks his hand out towards Marcus. “Hold this for me?” 

With Winston looking, Marcus is careful not to touch any part of John. After all, he’s only here to look. Still, he runs his thumb over the clean glass face of John’s watch. 

Then he gets it, because Marcus watches all the time. 

“You fucker.” 

John jerks his head around, only to be admonished by the tailor in monotone to look straight ahead, please. 

“Does he know?”

Now there’s a curtain separating themselves and John, who is changing into the first order of the day, a charcoal Italian cut under the tailor's careful supervision. 

“He knows it’s expensive. And that it’s a gift.” Winston shrugs. “At least he doesn’t think I’m weird.” 

“He probably thinks you’re weird and he’s too scared to tell you.” Marcus opines; the watch rests carefully in his grasp, and Winston can only imagine what the man is thinking. The way Marcus’s career trajectory has gone, what with him always camping out on top of buildings, one wonders if the man ever runs out of things to think about. “I view it as a sign of trust. I don’t mind.” 

“Jonathan trusts me,” Winston says. “I was the one who insisted he take the meeting in Naples. It’s not a bad thing, if he gets in bed with the Camorra early.”

Marcus smirks, “That a Freudian slip?” 

Winston checks the time. “I always say what I mean. Anyway, he does trust me.” 

“I didn’t say he didn’t trust you, Winston. I only said that he might be frightened of you. If he had half a brain, he would be.” 

“And what does that say about you, exactly?” 

“That I’m a little bit suicidal,” Marcus says. “Sniper’s hazard. Back’s wide open, you have to be prepared. I’m not even an idiot if I end up dead on a job. Just bad luck.” 

The tailor appears to draw back the curtain and John reappears. He is not looking the happiest, as he rolls his shoulders back. But Winston is pleased to see that his imagination hasn’t failed him in the least. The cut is flattering, making up for John’s still reedy frame. This suit doesn’t need any growing into; it announces to the world that John Wick’s arrived, primed and ready. 

Winston looks him up and down. “Anything the matter?” 

“Can’t really move around,” John says. “I feel like a show pig or something.” 

“Nah, kid,” Marcus cuts in, smug. “That’s selling yourself short. You're at least a show pony. All dressed up for dressage.” 

Winston finds that he can’t disagree.

“That’s just your suit for the meeting. You’ll get to wear something else when they put you to work, Jonathan.” 

“Oh,” John looks down at himself. “What’s dressage?” 

Winston can feel Marcus staring at him and he wills himself not to stare back. “Never mind that, just go try on your other suit. I'd like to see what it looks like.” 

John’s black gaze does another sweep between them and comes away clean. “Yes, sir.” 

The curtains are drawn again and Winston hears Marcus chuckling to himself. The sound unnatural, as if he is trying to protect himself from something. “You sound practically ravenous, Mr. Manager.” 

“So do you. _Dressage_.” 

Marcus says, "The horses haven't let me down, not yet. It's a great way to kill some time."

But in the end, they don’t mind sharing hunger. It’s the sort of incessant gnawing that reminds both of them that they’re still alive.

**Author's Note:**

> So I learned that Winston and John wear matching couples [watches](http://imglf5.nosdn.127.net/img/Yk5yY3dVNDRUNzhXUW1rYUZPVVRReWIzZmNtcm1TREJURDlHU0RyWDN6MFhnTkx6YW41MjJnPT0.png?=imageView&thumbnail=500x0&quality=96&stripmeta=0&type=jpg%7Cwatermark&type=2). This was not what I meant to do with it really, but it's been in my head.


End file.
